In The Closet
by SakuraGirl25
Summary: Max traps Steve in the closet. SLASH


**AN: This was quite fun to write.**

**Warnings: M/M. Lemon.**

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams.**

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**In the Closet**

Max had a problem. It—the problem—was merely annoying at first, but now it had turned into something else entirely. Desire and lust smoldered within him like magma in an active volcano, stealing his thoughts. You see it had been three days since they'd arrived in New York and over a week since he had sex. Truth was that he was horny and frustrated because they were hogging Steve's attention. So, he had decided to get what he wanted one way or the other.

He watched Steve walk into the linen closet—right on time—greedy eyes glued to that perfect ass. Casually he sauntered to it, opening then closing the door. The closet was terribly small with hardly enough room for one person let alone two adult men. So upon entrance he found himself pressed against the taller man.

Steve turned away from looking over the shelves stacked with table cloths to look upon his interloping lover. "Max, babe what-?"

Max did not allow Steve to finish the question. He captured Steve's mouth with his drawing them down into a demanding kiss burning with need. Graceful fingers danced down his love's chiseled torso, making short work of his belt.

Steve broke the kiss once Max had unzipped and unbuttoned his pants. "Max what the hell?" He asked breathily.

"I thought I was being quiet obvious in my intentions," he replied, voice already husky. Unceremoniously he dipped his hand into Steve's jeans, grasping his flaccid member through his underwear.

Steve jerked, biting back a groan. "Max we are in your parents'—gah fuck je-." He settled for a growl when Max squeezed his hardening flesh.

"Steve we've had sex in a private cabana before." He pressed his lips to the column of his lover's neck while massaging his clothed erection.

"Yes, but it wasn't your—mmmm-parents' house." He let out another growl, hips grinding against that that wicked hand.

Max drew away from sucking his neck, giving his cock a squeeze for good measure. "So you don't want to have sex?" He canted his head, seeing Steve bit his lip at the gesture.

He swallowed; gripping a shelf like it could boost his flagging will power. "I-."

Max joined their mouths again, nibbling along the tongue lapping at his bottom lip. Steve McGarrett was a complex man, a mystery within a puzzle if he so wanted. But Max knew what made him tick—especially pertaining to copulation. Wordlessly he slid Steve's shirt upward. You see despite its deceiving lethal capabilities his lover's body was actually quiet sensitive, especially his nipples.

He latched onto one rose pink nub lathering it with attention. He alternated between sucking, licking, and nibbling using his other hand to work its twin. The shudders wracking Steve's body fanned his excitement and he began grinding against his love wantonly. Clamping down on the nipple he tugged at it as he drew away—hearing Steve actually keen—before releasing it.

"Max…"

He gazed up at his lover through dark eyelashes. "Yes Steve?" He examined his lover noting the eyes darkened with want and the predatory gleam that had leapt into aquamarine depths. In a second flat he was slammed into the right-hand shelves—damn the pain—linens unfurling overhead.

The kiss they shared was little more than teeth and tongue. Deft hands divested him of his shirt, separating them before calloused fingers roamed his golden torso, leaving bruises in their wake. Max closed his eyes, uttering muffled whimpers through their kiss. He drew away, gasping when strong fingers wrapped around his throbbing member—how Steve managed to get him out of his pants so quick eluded him.

He was crazed with need his body burning as if he stood within the sun itself. He needed Steve now, ached for his love to possess him. "Need," he stated softly. "Steve."

Steve drew away, panting. "Lube?"

Max ducked his head, managing a blush even though he was completely naked. "I'm ready."

An eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"Mom always changes her table cloths every Sunday at 3 'o' clock and I told her that you liked picking out table cloths. So twelve minutes ago I kind took the liberty to prep myself." He held up a condom surprised at the full body shudder that rippled through his lover.

"Fuck Max that's hot."

Max gave him a grin and watched with hungry eyes as Steve made a show of rolling the sheath over his weeping erection. "Hurry," he urged feeling like he may explode if Steve didn't hurry and take him. A small yelp escaped him when he was lifted and pressed against the shelves. He bit his lip in anticipation letting out a low moan of satisfaction when Steve slid smoothly into him.

Steve's head lolled forward as he stilled. "God Max." He panted, puffs of air kissing Max's ear. "Fuck."

He locked his legs around Steve's waist, drawing him deep as possible. In no uncertain words he demanded Steve get on with it. He began thrusting, slamming into the tight heat almost harshly. He felt it within. It had been too long and neither of them would last long.

Max let out a cry when Steve impaled his prostate, sparks dancing behind his eyes. "Steve!"

Steve growled, hushing him with a kiss. He dropped his head trying his damndest not to cry out because of the burning velvet massaging his sensitized cock, undoing him with each thrust. He grasped the shelf behind Max, bracing himself before he began fucking him in earnest.

Max clawed at Steve's naked back, lost in building ecstasy and the hard body moving against him. He buried his face in his love's neck chanting his name in hitching breaths. He felt the muscles in his belly tighten warningly. Too much, he was going to-.

Light spilled into the small room when the door opened.

Steve stopped mid-thrust eyes like saucers as he looked to the side.

Max felt his stomach drop haze of ecstasy starting to dissipate. "Ya-ya," was all he could say. He swallowed nervously trying to act as if he wasn't butt-naked with his legs folded around his equally nude partner's waist being fucked stupid.

The aged woman's eyes widened, disturbing the wrinkles lining the pale skin of her face. She gaped at them.

They gaped at her.

Her shock passed a spark of mischief flashing in her eyes. "Dinner is ready." With that she shut the door.

Max would have considered the situation further if a sharp thrust had not claimed his attention. He keened shamelessly begging for more.

After the brief interruption, neither man lasted long. Steve brought them both to devastating climaxes that left them shaking violently. Max let out a happy sigh, bestowing a series of kisses against his lover's full lips.

Steve patted Max's naked ass before disconnecting them, pulling the condom off his softening member. "Didn't know you could be so naughty babe."

Max stepped into his boxers, pulling them gingerly over his bottom. "I have my moments." He couldn't help but admire the chiseled form of his lover. How did he get so lucky again?

Steve stared at the rapidly drying white fluid coating his palm distractedly before retrieving one of the many towels mixed with in the table cloths to clean it off.

"I cannot believe my ya-ya caught us," he lamented hiding his face in shame.

Steve stepped into his boxers, shrugging casually. Hell, he'd been caught doing worse.

He cast Steve a slightly accusing glower. "You could have at least-." Steve—the knucklehead—didn't even soften at the interruption. Nope he just stayed hard as rock, snugly inside of him like an 86 year old woman was not staring at them with wide eyes.

"I could have what? Withdrawn? Hell no. I don't want to be responsible for giving her a heart attack," he replied smugly.

Max rolled his eyes. "It is surprising that I managed to fit in here with you and your ego," he drawled with a deadpanned face.

He chortled good-naturedly at the jibe before bending to get his pants.

Max saw the red scratch marks donning his back. "Sorry."

Steve cracked a smooth grin. "Worth it." After they were fully dressed he leaned over and looked at Max like a ravenous wolf at a succulent antelope.

A thrill ran down his spine. He knew that look and its meaning. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. On the bright side, at least he'd wake up sated tomorrow. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed his lover's cheek.

They emerged from the closet, Steve with a table cloth in his hand. Carol Bergman seemed not to wonder why the two were in the closet or why they looked slightly disheveled and their cheeks were flushed. Dinner was awkward with the couple unable to even look ya-ya's direction. Seeing Max ease into his chair, Carol switched into to maternal mode asking if he had enough fiber in diet so he wouldn't have a hard poop. She even divulged the rather embarrassing boating accident Max had when he was 14—during which he broke his butt. His twin cousins found this hilarious.

"Jesus muffin cake," David Bergman stated at his wife's loose tongue, "I'm sorry you have to hear this Steve." His sympathetic gaze however was directed at Max.

Steve shrugged, inscrutable emotions swimming in his eyes. "No, it's okay."

Carol grinned smugly at her husband before eyeing Max closely. "Wow magpie you look so well-rested." She smiled saccharinely to their guest. "You must take good care of him Steve."

Ya-ya who had been quiet the entire time burst into laughter—much to the couple's horror.

"Are you okay mother?" Carol asked at the unexpected outburst.

Steve and Max glanced to each other, both thinking of a plan to make a quick getaway if the old lady blabbed about their little tyrst.

"Oh nothing," she waved away the concern with a gnarled hand. "Just remembering a joke I heard on the radio." She cast sparkling impish eyes to the nervous couple sitting at the table before resuming to eat her meal quietly.

**END**

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**I hope you all enjoyed that and if so Read and Review.**

**Later tater ^-***


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